


Paper Cups

by Theluminousfisheffect



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Homophobic Language, I promise, Multi, Pining, bad relationship with parent, because we really need more of those right?, because who doesn’t love pining?, coffee shop AU, mentions of - Freeform, there’ll be more characters and relationships in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theluminousfisheffect/pseuds/Theluminousfisheffect
Summary: “Does anyone have time this week?” John countered, breathing through the tingling in the pit of his stomach. God, he was a mess.“That’s a fair point. I gave someone like 9 shots of espresso earlier. They were more dead behind the eyes than I am,” he chuckled. “They might actually be dead now. I’m not sure how much caffeine you need to cause cardiac arrest.”John laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for any of your death drinks.”Alex smiled warmly and John’s eyes flicked to his lips. “Good. So what can I get you?”John’s gaze jumped back to meet Alex’s. “Uh, a white chocolate mocha with hazelnut.”Or another coffee shop au featuring a pining John.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off, there is nothing mature in this chapter (so sorry if that’s why you opened it) but there will be later so that’s why it’s tagged as that now.
> 
> Secondly, I present the billionth coffee shop au. You can thank @jawnlma.
> 
> Thirdly, I want to thank her for putting up with my whining and reading this. Again.
> 
> And lastly, for now anyway, thank you for opening my fic.

John’s backpack weighed heavily on his shoulders as he walked through the cool winter’s night towards the library. He tugged the straps hard, pulling the backpack higher, shifting the weight from the tops of his aching shoulders and sighed. Spirals of his breath danced and swirled upwards into the orange glow of the streetlights. The library, not too far in the distance now, was illuminated like a lighthouse. From the darkness, John could make out figures at the windows where the blinds were still open and felt relieved as hell that he was going home and not into another round of studying. He didn’t think he could take in anything more at this point. 

He could see the fairy lights of the giant Christmas tree in the café window glittering warmly in all their multi-coloured glory and smiled softly to himself. He couldn’t wait for finals to be over so he could finally bathe himself in all things Christmas. He had promised himself that he would make his traditional hot chocolate the night after his last one and curl up in a nest of blankets with his laptop to catch up on Game of Thrones, although the show wasn’t particularly Christmassy itself. Then he would wrap the couple of presents he had so he could hand them out over the few days between then and Christmas. That thought was the only thing driving him through the last week of hell. That and coffee.

As he walked through the library doors, he fumbled in his jeans’ pocket for the battered loyalty card and his credit card. His fingers curled around the two loosely, just pressing the edges into his skin. He wormed his way through the sofas and tables outside the café itself, past the line of people queued up for the water machine and pushed the heavy door to the café open with the other hand. 

He had expected more of a queue inside with it being finals week but most people in the library either seemed to have brought their own coffee or he had timed it perfectly and caught the lull between rushes. There were a few students dotted about at various tables, nearly all with textbooks open in front of them. One guy in the corner had spread his notes over two tables and was mouthing something to himself as his leg bounced vigorously under the table. Three girls were gathered around a table beside the Christmas tree, quizzing each other but John wasn’t close enough to hear what it was on and the only other people he could see were a guy and a girl sitting opposite each other at the window tables. The guy laughed at something the girl had just said and she lifted her mug and sipped delicately, looking proudly over the rim at him. 

Angelica was out on the floor, stacking trays and used mugs and wiping the tables down. She looked up from the one she was cleaning and waved at John, tossing the cloth back onto one of the trays. He smiled and waved back, making his way up to the counter as Angelica lifted the pile of dishes and wove her way back to the staff door. She nudged it open with her hip and squeezed expertly through the gap, disappearing into the kitchen. 

Alex was bent over behind the till, leaning his elbows on the workbench. His head was rested exasperatedly on one hand and he was tapping at a page in his notebook with the top of a pen. He muttered something inaudibly to himself; a constant stream of barely spoken words accompanying the random tapping like the distant babble of a river. Loose strands of hair had fallen from his ponytail and were partially obscuring his face but John could still make out the deep frown as the murmuring stopped and Alex glanced back from the coffee pots to the notebook. He sighed heavily, blowing air from his cheeks and the hair hanging over his face lifted a fraction before it fell right back to where it was. John couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept over his lips as Alex rolled his eyes and mumbled an unmistakable “I fucking knew that,” as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders backwards, stretching like a cat in the sun.

“Oh, hey John,” Alex said, holding the awkward arch in his back for a few seconds before he let his shoulders drop again. He tucked the offending strands of hair behind his ear and leaned both hands on the workbench, half-smiling.

“Hey Alex,” John grinned, ignoring the way his heart fluttered in his chest. Fucking flexing his chest like that right in his face. “You hard at work back there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and nodding at the notebook.

“Well, maybe not the work I’m being paid for but yeah,” he admitted with a wry smile. Shit, John loved that smile. Was there nothing that Alex did that didn’t send his pulse skyrocketing? “I don’t have a lot of time this week to do it at home.”

“Does anyone have time this week?” John countered, breathing through the tingling in the pit of his stomach. God, he was a mess.

“That’s a fair point. I gave someone like 9 shots of espresso earlier. They were more dead behind the eyes than I am,” he chuckled. “They might actually be dead now. I’m not sure how much caffeine you need to cause cardiac arrest.”

John laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for any of your death drinks.”

Alex smiled warmly and John’s eyes flicked to his lips. “Good. So what can I get you?”

John’s gaze jumped back to meet Alex’s. “Uh, a white chocolate mocha with hazelnut.”

“Just one pump?”

“Yeah, one’ll do.”

“Large?”

John nodded once. “Definitely.”

Alex smirked, pushed his stubborn hair back behind his ear again; “ _it’s almost as stubborn as the man himself,”_ John thought, and typed the order into the till. John handed over the loyalty card and slid his credit card into the reader while Alex stamped the loyalty card and handed it back. He typed his pin, waited for the machine to tell him he could take it again and stuffed the cards back into his pockets as Alexander lifted down a large cup and went to the espresso machine. 

John looked up from his jeans and his eyes wandered naturally back to Alex. He found himself staring at the plane of his shoulders, watching Alex’s movements while he worked. He couldn’t see much of his frame through the baggy black t-shirts they had for uniforms but watching Alex fill the cup with steamed milk was oddly captivating anyway and John found that he couldn’t look away. That was until Angelica came back out from the kitchen. She stopped behind the till as she caught sight of his lustful gaze and arched an eyebrow at him smugly. John blushed guiltily. His eyes darted to the takeaway cups for sale, pretending he had been admiring the colours and not Alex’s shoulders. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong; looking wasn’t a crime but he felt like he had been caught reaching over the counter and taking money from their tips jar. Angelica had a knack for making him feel like that with a single look, especially when it came to Alex. 

She shook her head and grinned, stepping past Alex to start taking out the now day old squares from the display case and John cursed her internally as he tried to will away the heat in his cheeks. She had gotten way too good at the “disapproving mom” look. There was no defence against it.

“ _Then again, with a sister like Peggy, she probably needed to have it perfected,_ ” he thought to himself. 

He hoped the embarrassment wasn’t showing on his face but Alex didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary as he snapped the lid onto the cup and slid it over the counter.

“There you go, one white chocolate mocha with hazelnut ready to go.”

John scratched the back of his neck and smiled bashfully at Alex as he took the cup. “Ha, thanks. How long have you guys got left?”

“Another hour yet,” Angelica deadpanned. Both she and Alex rolled their eyes in perfect unison, making John snort. “We’re in later all this week ‘cause the library’s open 24 hours now.”

John smirked, “Wait, doesn’t that mean you guys should be in here 24 hours too? Maybe I’ll suggest that to management.”

“It’ll be the last thing you ever do,” Angelica told him flatly and John solemnly believed that she meant it. He grinned cheekily back at her, casually blowing on his coffee but he was glad he was out of her reach.

“I don’t know what her plan is but I will help,” Alex added coolly. John sipped at his coffee tensely, thankful for the counter between them the same way he was thankful for the Perspex between him and the tiger enclosure at the zoo. Alex and Angelica were intimidating enough alone when they wanted to be but God have mercy on your soul if they both decided they hated your guts. They made a formidable force when they teamed up.

“Like you helped me bringing the trash out?” Aaron quipped, appearing through the kitchen doorway. He walked over to them, unfazed even as Alex turned his stony glare onto him. 

“Hey, I told you I have to study,” he argued, poking Aaron in the chest as he got closer. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“And you already know everything for it,” Aaron countered, folding his arms across his chest.

“And if you don’t, it’s probably too late now,” Angelica said. 

“I have to finish going over it. I need to make sure I retain it all for tomorrow. After the test, it can all just disappear again, I don’t care but until tomorrow afternoon, I need to know this. That means I need to study,” Alex shrugged. 

“You need to take a break. You’ve been killing yourself again,” Aaron said softly, sliding his fingers into the strands of loose hair at the nape of Alex’s neck. 

John hadn’t noticed just how much tension Alex had been holding in his shoulders until some of it melted away under Aaron’s gentle caresses. He slouched backwards and nudged his head into Aaron’s hand, sighing quietly, eyelids fluttering. It was easy to see just how exhausted he was. The dark rings under his eyes made him look like he had been punched in the face a week ago. For a moment, all the life drained out of him and John was shocked that he hadn’t noticed it before. Alexander fizzled away, leaving a shadow of the man he knew standing in his place while Aaron played with his hair and gave his neck a squeeze that drew a lazy hum of contentment from Alex. He had seemed as bright and breezy as he always did when they were talking at the till. Now he looked as if a strong wind would knock him over and John wondered if Aaron was the only thing holding him upright anymore. 

“You worry too much,” Alex murmured, half-smiling as Aaron twisted a lock of hair around his finger and tugged it deftly.

“ _No wonder,_ ” John thought.

“No, _you_ worry too much. You know you know that stuff. Stop trying to do that and your job at the same time.” 

“Besides,” Angelica grinned behind them, “I need you to change the soup of the day on the menu board for tomorrow.”

Alex dropped his head back and groaned, twisting out of Aaron’s grip to face her. “Why do I always have to do it?”

“Because you have the nicest handwriting and it gives your boyfriend a chance to stare at your ass while you’re up there.”

“I do not stare at Alexander’s ass while he’s writing the menus,” Aaron told her as he worked the tie out of his boyfriend’s hair. Alex didn’t move as he ran his fingers over his scalp, catching the loose strands and pulling them back into some semblance of order. The gesture itself was so ordinary and so domestic. It had no right to spark the rage that was boiling in the pit of John’s stomach but there it was all the same, burning through his veins like wildfire. He tore his eyes away from them and reminded himself that he had no right to care. Alex wasn’t his and he wasn’t Alex’s. But it didn’t do anything to quench the acidic burn of jealously in the back of his throat.

Angelica shrugged. “Fine, then John and I can do it instead, right John?”

His attention snapped back to the conversation and his fingers tightened around the paper cup. He let out a single laugh and Angelica’s eyebrows moved towards her hairline at the edge to it. John pretended he hadn’t noticed how forced it sounded.

At least you’re honest about it,” Alex chuckled. “Who am I to deprive you of that view? I’ll go get the step ladder.”

He ducked into the kitchen and John took the brief interruption to try and regain his composure and his dignity. _Had Alex noticed the sharpness in John’s laugh? Did he know what it meant? What was Angelica trying to do him? She was going to wind up getting him into so much shit._ The knot of panic in his ribcage convulsed, squeezing tighter around his pounding heart. His fingers mirrored the feeling, twitching uneasily around the paper coffee cup. His mind raced through hypotheticals and “what-ifs”, playing out every worst case scenario it could think of and John’s stomach swirled at some of the prospects it offered him. He had to calm down. 

He swallowed a swig of coffee, hoping the heat would melt the seizing panic away and avoided making eye contact with Angelica or Aaron.

“Relax John,” Ange smiled, attempting to ease some of the tension hanging in the air around them. “Aaron and Alex know I’m joking.”

“I’m fine,” he said, taking another sip of coffee to swallow the lump at the back of his throat. His heart was thumping against his rib cage and he swore Angelica could hear it. “I’m gonna go,” he announced as Alex dragged the step ladder through the kitchen door and set it up under the board. “I got some work to finish off. I’ll see you guys later.”

“I wish I was going home,” Alex muttered as he lifted the box of coloured chalks down from the shelf, apparently oblivious to the disquiet simmering behind him.

“Only an hour left and then you can,” Aaron reminded him.

“But that’s a whole other hour of standing here,” he pouted.

“That’s how this job works, Alexander.”

Alex groaned and flicked open the box of chalks, taking a yellow stick out of its place and stepped up onto the ladder.

“Shit, I forgot the -“

“Cloth, I got it,” Ange sighed, grabbing a damp one hanging off the handle on the espresso machine. She tossed it up to him and Alex caught it, grinning.

“Thanks Ange.”

He started wiping away ‘ _tomato and basil_ ’ and John felt a tiny twinge in his chest. The ladder only had two steps to it and even with the additional height, Alex wasn’t tall enough to reach the very top of the board. Luckily he didn’t need to to change the soup but John wondered how Alex had gotten up there to write ‘ _Soup of the Day_ ’ in the first place. It was definitely his handwriting printed neatly across the top of the board.  
He was struck suddenly by the image of Alex climbing up onto the counter the coffee machines stood on, grumbling that he could do it and leaning backwards ever so slightly to get around the overhang, chalk in hand while Aaron hovered behind him worriedly. He hated how it made his jaw clench and his stomach writhe that Aaron was the one looking out for Alex and not him. He hated how Aaron held onto the step ladder, eyeing Alex concernedly while he traced out ‘ _potato and leek_ ’. He hated how when he was done with the board, Alex stepped down both steps at once and pressed the chalk to Aaron’s chest, beaming.

“Done! Now I gotta go finish studying.”

“And I gotta go,” John said, raising his cup to them. A voice was screaming in his head to get out of there as soon as he could. He couldn’t bear to look at the way Alex’s hand lingered on Aaron’s chest any longer. It made his own chest tighten with jealousy. His stomach was a maelstrom of hatred and envy; he could taste it in the back of his throat and he had to leave before any of it started to show on his face. He couldn’t justify hating the sight of Aaron’s face so much when he hadn’t done anything. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Alex span around and shot John a smile and John felt his heart crack. “Oh yeah, see you later.”

“Don’t work too hard.” He had to try to sound normal, like he was entirely unaffected by something as simple as watching Aaron fixing his ponytail. He had to keep up pretences for his own sake, for Alex’s. 

“Not likely.”

“Wait, John. You’re coming to the New Year's party, right?” Angelica called after him. He stopped in his flight and turned on his heels, smiling at her as if his heart wasn’t breaking in two.

“Oh yeah! I’ll see you there!”

“You’ll be there, right?” she asked, turning to Alex and Aaron.

“There’ll be alcohol and music, right?” Alex asked seriously.

“Yup.”

“Then I’m there.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on Alex, so yes. We’ll both be there,” Aaron said, putting a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Nice, see you then,” John grimaced, showing far too much teeth for a casual smile. He turned again quickly before anyone picked up on how false his smile was and gave them one final wave over his shoulder as he headed to the door. A chorus of goodbyes followed him out through the side door back into the night. 

The cool air washed over him, burning like ice as he dragged in lungfuls through his nose. He took a few deep breaths as he stared up into the inky sky above, attempting, in vain, to calm himself. Everything ached; the pain was sharp and raw and everywhere, like every atom in his body was trying to punish him for being in love with someone unobtainable. It clogged his veins and his airway. It tore shreds from his heart. It filled his insides like tar, until he was as dark and empty as the city sky. 

He stayed like that for a minute, letting it consume him. He tried to push away the image of Aaron fixing Alex’s hair and tried not to imagine how it would feel to brush his fingers through it, to work the knots out tenderly with his fingers, to have Alex that soft and pliant and open under his fingertips, to be the one that could make Alex pause, however briefly it was. To imagine that kind of power was both thrilling and ruinous. He couldn’t have Alex and thinking about it did nothing but cause him more pain. But he couldn’t stop when Alex was nearly always there, loud and brash and in everyone’s face. There was no way he could ignore him and he didn’t want to. He wanted to be around Alex. He was drawn to him like an oasis in the middle of the desert. What he didn’t want was Aaron hanging behind him like a shadow, a quiet hand on Alex’s shoulder, wordlessly restraining him. Alex didn’t need to be held back. He needed –

John cut himself off, clenching his teeth harshly. “He doesn’t need you,” he hissed to himself. “He’s happy and it has nothing to do with you.”

He swallowed hard, beating his feelings back down into the abyss of his soul where they belonged. He took a deep breath in through his nose, stretching out the crushing feeling in his chest. There was nothing else he could do.

John fixed his scarf, pulling it higher around his neck and wrapped both hands around his coffee. He paused, then took a long sip of coffee and started marching resolutely back towards his dorm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas day, done two different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, an apology and an explanation (of sorts). To anyone who actually cares about this fic, I'm sorry it has taken me this long to get the second chapter done. Life has been absolutely kicking my ass since then and giving me no time for stuff like this and all of my energy was going into telling it to go fuck itself (nothing serious, in case anyone was worried). Then when I finally had time, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I lost interest in this story and I didn't want to read what I had written way back when because I didn't know where to start to fix it. 
> 
> But I finally have. Hopefully the next one won't take so long and if you're enjoying it, please let me know because motivation to do it is still eh. Thank you to all the lovely people who commented and left kudos on the first chapter. They really made my day.
> 
> Also trigger warning for bad relationships with parents. There's not a lot in this chapter beyond mentions of it but just to be sure. And it'll become more of a thing later on.
> 
> And so, without further ado, I present the next chapter.

John came around slowly, stretching his legs down his bed as the world fitted itself into place around him. He flexed his toes lazily and lifted his arms above his head, easing the sleep out of his muscles as he tensed and relaxed. John reached out for his phone, lifting it from his bedside table and sighed as he read the time. 11:52. Just over an hour, then.

He sank back into his pillow and slid his arms under the warm cotton duvet, determined to be comfortable before he dragged himself out of his cocoon. He didn’t have much time before he would have to get up but with the soft weight of the duvet moulded perfectly around his body, John’s motivation deserted him. A small part of him wondered if he could pretend to be sick and hide through the day in the comfort of his own bed but a bigger part of him knew it wouldn’t go down well. There was nothing else to do except grit his teeth and get on with it.

With a groan, John threw the duvet back and sat up. His room wasn’t cold but the air felt cool on his bed-warm skin and it raised the hairs on his arms and his legs, even under his long pyjamas. He pulled the sleeves down over his wrists and stood, untangling the bottoms as he trudged to his wardrobe to find a hoodie to pull on over the top. He could leave getting changed until later. He wasn’t ready to sacrifice his body heat yet.

Coffee. He needed coffee. 

He traipsed down the hall towards the kitchen, wondering distantly if Herc and Laf would be up yet. He supposed they didn’t have to be but he could hear the low drone of the oven echoing down to him so one of them must have been. He pushed the kitchen door open to find Herc standing at the stove with his back to John, still in his maroon and navy chequered pyjama bottoms and a dark grey zip up hoodie. Laf was hovering at the side with his arms folded around his stomach, casually inclined against the counter top in navy bottoms with huge white stars and a white top that said ‘super star’ across his chest. He broke into a grin when he saw John.

“Merry Christmas, mon amie!”

“Ha, merry Christmas Laf,” John replied. “I didn’t think you guys would be up.”

“Do you have any idea how long a turkey takes to cook?” Herc asked, putting the lid back on the pot of potatoes. “If we had left it until now to start, we wouldn’t get dinner until Boxing Day. Merry Christmas, by the way,” he added, turning to face the conversation.

“Fair enough. And merry Christmas. Did you guys make coffee yet?” 

“Non! You can’t have coffee!” Laf interjected.

“Why not? I need caffeine, Laf,” John protested, trying to squeeze past him to get to the kettle.

“He’s been waiting all morning for you to get up,” Herc chuckled.

“Oui, so we can have hot chocolate together,” Laf explained. “We don’t get to see you all day and Alex stayed over at Aaron’s last night. We’re missing out on tradition.”

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, Laf. Besides, don’t you and Herc want the house to yourselves? You know, a nice romantic Christmas for the happy couple.”

John reached for the kettle around Lafayette but Laf was quicker. He snatched the kettle and held it at arm’s length away from John.

“Still. We’re already missing mon Petit Lion. You can’t ditch us too,” Laf pouted, giving John his best puppy dog eyes. “I’ll make it,” he added when John didn’t answer immediately.

John half-smiled and rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. Make your hot chocolate.”

Laf grinned and set the kettle back on its stand. He opened a drawer and took out a small silver pot, nudging Herc out of the way of the stove with his hip. “Bijou, I need some room.”

“I’m moving. Gimme a sec,” Herc muttered, stepping aside. “And what about food with this hot chocolate? Dinner won’t be ready for another couple of hours yet. You guys want toast or something now?”

“Toast?” Laf scoffed, heading to the fridge to grab the milk. “It’s Christmas, Hercules. We can have toast any day.”

“You’re getting Christmas dinner. And the oven is kind of full of turkey so if you want to make something, it needs to be something you can do without it,” he pointed out. 

“I can make pancakes.”

“I’m eating at Dad’s. I don’t need any,” John said, sliding into a chair. 

“You don’t want any?” Laf asked, pouting slightly as he opened the milk and poured it into the pot. 

“It’s too early for food and I’ll get some at Dad’s,” John said again.

“More for us,” Herc shrugged, handing Laf a spoon out of the drawer behind him. “You eating early at your dad’s?”

“Yeah, unlike you guys, he doesn’t have to cook any of it,” John muttered, folding his arms on the table top. He sighed and sank down, resting the point of his chin on his forearms, hunched tiredly over the table. “I have to be there in like an hour.”

Laf grimaced as he placed the milk back in the fridge and turned to put a solid hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s only a few hours, amie, and then you can come home and have a proper Christmas with us.”

John’s heart squeezed in his chest. He knew Lafayette was only trying to help but nothing was going to help him until he was home again. His best shot at getting through the day was to ignore it until he was there and keep his mouth shut once he was. He had never seen eye to eye with his dad anyway and it had only gotten worse when his mom died. They spoke now and again, mostly through awkward phone calls and texts that John wasn’t entirely convinced were always from his dad but by and large, they ignored each other’s existence as much as possible without being indecent about it. John only went home when his presence was demanded and Christmas was the biggest demand of the year. He couldn’t miss it. 

_“Laf’s right. It’s only a few hours. You can make that. You made it last year and the year before that and yeah, you get it. You’ve lived through it before. You can do it again.”_

John sighed heavily and hid his eyes against his forearm, burying into the darkness. He hated having to go just to keep up appearances and pretend that they weren’t broken. Their family had shattered years ago. 

Laf squeezed his shoulder sympathetically and glanced over at Herc sadly. It hurt seeing John like this and knowing there was nothing they could for him except wait for him to get home and try to make it better then. Herc’s lips twitched up into a half grimace and shrugged like “Yeah, I know but what can we do?”

“We’ll keep presents and stuff until you get back. I don’t think Alex is coming home until tomorrow so we’ll all do ours tonight and he can get his tomorrow,” Herc said, turning back to stir the carrots. Laf released John’s shoulder and went to the cupboard to get the hot chocolate powder and John curled in tighter on himself. Yeah, that was something. He could look forward to that. He needed to hold onto it.

 

————————————————

Alex hummed and rolled onto his side, lodging himself permanently against the warmth of Aaron’s chest. He snuggled in, only half awake as Aaron smiled and lifted strands of his hair from his cheek. He bent down from where he was propped up on his elbow and pressed a kiss to the top of Alex’s forehead.

“Merry Christmas.”

“M’ry Chr’s’mas,” came the muffled reply. Alex stifled a yawn and pressed his nose into Aaron’s sternum. “Hey, quick question. How are you shirtless and still this warm?”

“Because I’m not cold blooded maybe,” he teased, continuing to brush Alex’s hair back from his face in long deliberate strokes across his scalp. The tenderness of it sent shivers down Alex’s spine. He moved his head back far enough to gaze up at his boyfriend thoughtfully. Aaron smiled softly and continued his campaign of smoothing Alex’s hair back into some semblance of order.

“You have a point. And I am definitely not complaining about waking up to a faceful of you. I’m just saying it’s the middle of freaking winter and you’re here in no shirt and - yeah, just boxers,” he added, sliding his legs over Aaron’s to feel his exposed skin through his own pyjamas. “What the actual fuck, Aaron?” 

He chuckled and threw one of his bare legs over Alex’s most definitely pyjama-ed ones. “I told you, I’m not cold blooded. The rest of humanity has evolved to produce their own heat and not just leach their boyfriend’s.”

“Nah, my plan is better,” Alex smirked, grazing the palm of his hand up the plane of Aaron’s spine. “And you have plenty to spare.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Hey, it is actually Christmas, isn’t it?” Alex asked, the realisation finally dawning on him.

“What was your first clue? The fact that I said Merry Christmas when you woke up? Or that yesterday was Christmas Eve and you’re staying here for Christmas?”

“Shut up,” Alex said, moving up the bed and kissing Aaron to do just that. “If you aren’t nice to me, you won’t get your present.”

“You mean I get something other than getting to spend Christmas with you?” Aaron said smoothly, twisting a lock of Alex’s hair around his finger to emphasise his point. Alex grimaced and shoved Aaron in the chest. He laughed in response and hugged Alex closer, making sure he had no room to squirm away.

“That was so disgustingly sappy. I can’t believe you said that to me. I don’t think you deserve a present anymore.”

Aaron hummed and kissed his neck slowly. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything anyway.”

“Did you get me something?” Alex retorted, easing pliantly back against his boyfriend’s chest. 

“Yes,” he murmured, moving higher to graze his teeth over the shell of Alex’s ear. “But that’s -“

“No, don’t,” Alex turned his head away and pushed Aaron back again. All traces of playfulness drained out of their embrace with the one swift movement and Aaron loosened his grip slightly to give Alex room to move away if he wanted to. 

“What?” he asked gently, trying to catch Alexander’s eye. It wasn’t always easy to tell what would set Alex off. Some things were always off the table - like talking about Nevis, as Aaron had soon learned - but others could be joked about when he was in the mood. Other times, it was the little things that would send him over the edge and Aaron didn’t really have a set of warning signs to watch out for. He only knew when he had overstepped a boundary and it was already too late. 

It wasn’t really something they had ever discussed much - not by mutual decision. More that Aaron would try to ask and Alex would dance expertly around the question and change the subject before giving any sort of insight into what the problem was and without an explanation, picking up on subjects that Alex might find offensive was still like trying to traverse a minefield whilst blindfolded. 

“You were going to say it’s different,” Alex scowled. “It isn’t different. You want to buy me a present because I’m your boyfriend and I want to buy you one because you’re mine. There’s nothing different about that.”

Ah. So pride was the problem. He should have seen that one coming. If there was one constant with Alexander, it was that he was always trying to prove himself in every situation to everyone around him. As if he continuously needed to show everybody that he was enough, that he was just as good as any of them. Aaron thought it was ridiculous when anyone within a three mile radius could see that Alex was bright, and on top of that, he would go to the moon and back to get a job done if he had to but it was something that stuck and stuck fast with Alex. He found himself wondering again if that had anything to do with the forbidden childhood story and pushed the thought away as soon as it emerged.

_“Not today.”_

“Just because we both know I don’t make like half of what you’ve got doesn’t mean I can’t get you a present. That’s not how this works. And you better not have got me lots because I swear to god, Aaron -“

“Alexander,” he said softly, placing his hands placatingly on both of his shoulders, cutting him off before he really got himself going. “I’m sorry.”

That pulled Alex up short. He blinked once expressionlessly at Aaron, his mouth still hanging uselessly open around his next point. If anything, he had been expecting a fight over this or at least another “discussion” but an apology? That was unexpected to say the least. He blinked again and his expression shifted into a frown, drawing his eyebrows together.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right,” Aaron repeated himself, still holding onto Alex’s shoulders and looking him square in the eye. 

“Oh. Well...okay,” he said, squirming a little to give the flare of anger in the pit of his stomach somewhere to go. He hadn’t been expecting it to go that easily and he had his defence already formed on his tongue before Aaron cut him off, anticipating the easy ebb and flow of an argument they had had countless times. Now it hung there behind his lips, urging him to say it anyway, trying to force itself out between his teeth. Leave nothing unsaid, leave nothing undone and if all else failed, at least you had closure.

Alex licked his lips and swallowed it down hard, hoping it would ease the butterflies multiplying steadily in his stomach. He let out a little sigh, which did help take the edge off the gnawing in his insides at holding something he wanted to say, something he probably should say, back and Aaron smiled softly at him, praying it looked reassuring and not like he thought Alex looked cute when he was pouting. Which he did, but that was beside the point and definitely did not help Aaron’s case at all right now.

“So are we good?” he asked, snaking a hand around Alex’s hip to his back, testing the waters. Hands outside his clothes, for now at least. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Alex rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the beginnings of a smile creeping across his face. Aaron mirrored it hungrily.

Aaron hadn’t meant anything by it. It was Alex’s pride getting in the way again, plus he had apologised for it and shit, if it wasn’t hard to be mad at someone when they were touching you and looking at you like that. The butterflies were already switching to a new objective. 

“Good.”

He leaned in to kiss Alex and slipped his hand underneath his waistband, grabbing a handful of his ass. It was totally worth the embarrassed squeak that Alex made and the twitch of his hips that pushed his body closer. Alex retaliated by nipping sharply at Aaron’s lower lip and sucking it gently between his own. 

Aaron shimmied his other arm under Alex’s waist, forcing Alex to wriggle his hips closer again and slipped that one under his pyjamas too, making sure he got to indulge himself fully with that ass. Alex adjusted himself accordingly and broke the kiss to nudge at Aaron’s jawline with his nose.

“Mm, presents first. That way I can give you a proper thank you later.” 

Aaron arched an eyebrow cynically at him. “Is that really why or do you just want to see what you got?”

“Hey, if either of us is that shallow, it’s you,” Alex grinned. “Don’t pretend to put it on me.”

“I could think of better things to put on you.”

Alex’s face went through a contortion of emotions that was almost too rapid to pick out the separate feelings but Aaron knew him well enough to catch traces. He could see the hard lines around his forehead and his eyes as he frowned, the almost hidden glimmer of arousal in his eyes and the tiniest twitch of his lips before they were lost to a bemused snort.

“Wow, I don’t think that counts as foreplay. I sincerely hope it doesn’t. You used to be so much better at it,” Alex laughed. “I think I might have to give you a refresher course later.”

“Then my plan worked perfectly,” Aaron smiled softly, kissing Alex’s forehead. 

“Don’t pretend that was some kind of master plan. That was a failure and you know it. You can’t fool me, Aaron.”

“It’s Christmas. Give me a break,” he said, pressing their foreheads together.

“Never,” Alex kissed him quickly and sat up. “Now get your ass up and let’s go.”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, stretching his arms above his head now there was a void where his boyfriend used to be. He propped himself up lazily and the duvet slipped off his chest, gathering around his waist. “Are we doing presents in bed?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s freezing.” 

“Then put the heating on. We have to get up for dinner at some point too.”

“Why can’t you do it? You’re the warm blooded one,” Alex protested. Aaron sighed. He had set himself up for that one.

“All right, I’ll put the heat on. You stay here and -“

“Get ready, I got it,” Alex cut in, already shepherding Aaron out of his own bed with frantic waves of his hands. “Go, go, go. The quicker you get back, the quicker you can have your present.”

“I’m going, Alexander,” he answered, sliding out of the bed begrudgingly. He didn’t really want to get out yet. He had imagined a much slower start to the day; lazy morning kisses and long gentle scratches of his fingers through Alex’s hair while Alex shivered and sighed, buried against his neck turning into something more heated, with teeth grazing over collarbones and love bites sucked into each other’s flesh, hot and desperate touches cumulating in sweet, languid morning sex. He wanted to spend the day in bed, making his boyfriend feel good. He knew Alex didn’t really enjoy Christmas until the day itself, although he still had no idea why. It was another thing Alex just shrugged off. But he wanted to change that now that he could. He wanted to give Alex better memories of Christmas and make it something to look forward to. He had planned on spending all morning in bed with each other, then sitting in their pyjamas eating dinner together, with Alex casually curled up on the kitchen chairs in a way that should cut off all the circulation to his legs but never seemed to bother him, laughing and drinking wine and then exchanging presents once it was dark outside with the curtains drawn tight and the fire roaring, just the two of them hidden away from the rest of the world. And honestly, if things had gone well enough, maybe another make out session that brought them back to the bedroom for round two. 

Alex appeared to have different plans. Though Aaron couldn’t really hold it against him. He seemed excited for this and that was something, especially considering it had only been three days ago when Alex was lying in a heap on their sofa with a headache and his hair covering his eyes to block the sight of the fairy lights. So if Alex wanted presents first, then why not? What they did today and when they did it wasn’t the important thing. As long as they enjoyed it.

Aaron padded into the utility room and switched the heating on on the ground floor. He considered going to light the fire now but Alex would get impatient waiting on him and the heating would make the house warm enough to get up for dinner anyway. The fire could wait until after he had satisfied his overeager boyfriend. 

What couldn’t wait until then was coffee. Aaron made his way to the coffee machine and got it all set up - god, it was like being at work - and got two mugs out. He made two coffees; one with milk and a spoonful of sugar for himself and one with just a dash of milk for Alex. 

He glanced over at the fridge, wondering idly if he needed to start heating the food now. It had all been pre-cooked and delivered so Aaron’s only job in the whole rigmarole was to heat it again and serve it. It was probably too early. He had checked the instructions on it all and the longest “cooking” time was only about 20-30 minutes for the turkey. It could also wait. 

Aaron brought the two mugs back down to his room and handed the red one to Alex who took it with a grin.

“Thanks. I really needed this. I can feel my brain slouched over against the inside my skull. It refuses to cooperate until after coffee,” Alex said, raising his mug to his lips. “Oh no, way too hot yet,” he grimaced, taking it back down as the steam reached his lips and held it between his hands. He tucked his knees up and pulled his feet in close so he was sitting cross-legged and perched the mug precariously on his ankle. “Guess my brain’s gonna sleep a bit longer yet.”

“You do an awful lot of talking for someone whose brain is apparently still not functioning,” Aaron half-smiled, setting himself down at the edge of the bed.

“Lots of people do that. Look at Jefferson,” Alex shrugged, flashing his boyfriend a cheeky grin as Aaron chuckled and sipped at his own coffee.

“You got me there.”

“Anyway, forget him. Why are we even talking about him in the bedroom of all places?”

“You’re the one who brought him up,” Aaron pointed out, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Whatever. Fuck Jefferson - don’t say it - open this instead.”

Alex set his mug down on the bedside table and reached over the side of the bed. From between the bed and the table, he dragged a huge rectangular package wrapped in blue paper that was covered with hundreds of white and silver snowflakes. He hauled it up onto the bed and placed it between him and Aaron.

“So there’s only one present but I think it’s a good one. I think you’ll like it. I can take it back if you don’t.”

“Alex, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“I _know_. I’m just saying. Anyway, open it.”

Aaron took the package carefully into his lap - Jesus, it was heavy - and found an edge of the wrapping paper with his fingernail. He peeled it away easily, tearing the paper to reveal a whole stack of books. There were at least ten he guessed from first glance but why would Alex buy him so many? 

He tore the rest of the paper away and slipped the first book out, turning it in his hand to check the cover. His eyes widened as he read the title and his hand drifted over the cover, fingertips ghosting over the hardback like he was afraid it would disintegrate if he touched it at all. 

“I remembered you saying you read it as a kid,” Alex launched straight into his explanation without waiting for Aaron to respond. “So I thought it would be cool to get you the whole series so you could have them again. Like I said, I can always take it back if it’s too childish.” 

“It’s perfect,” Aaron looked at him with a soft smile. “I haven’t read A Series of Unfortunate Events since I was about twelve. I don’t know what happened to my copies in the end.” 

“Well, yeah, I know. That’s why I bought you these ones,” Alex shrugged nonchalantly. Aaron’s smile grew wider and he pressed his lips lovingly to Alex’s cheek. 

“Thank you." 

Alex beamed brightly and flicked his hair back from his face. “You’re welcome. You’re lucky you got that. The internet recommended I should buy you eight pounds of marshmallows and that was by far its best offering. I thought it was supposed to be more helpful than that.” 

“Well, I do like marshmallows,” Aaron smirked. Alex rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully. 

“Shut up. You know what I want to know though? Do they buy those wholesale from like cereal companies or did someone just buy lots and lots of cereal, pick out all of the marshmallows and then think “Aww shit, what am I gonna do with all of these marshmallows?” and then write a list of random present ideas just to pawn off the eight pound bag of marshmallows? Because I smell a conspiracy in that somewhere.” 

“Where do you think of these things?” Aaron shook his head, smiling at the idiocy of a conspiracy over bags of marshmallows. “Of course they buy wholesale. In fact, it’s _you_ that buys wholesale if you buy it. No one has time to pick out that many marshmallows. No one is insane enough to do that when they can just buy bags.” 

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Alex said, pointing a finger at Aaron’s nose. “There are definitely people out there who would pick eight pounds of marshmallows out of cereal boxes, save them up in a giant plastic bag in their garage, then wonder how they’re going to get rid of them and then realise Christmas is only two months away but people aren’t interested in buying random bags of marshmallows from a weird dude with a bag of ‘em. So they either write their own list or get someone else to do it for them but either way, suddenly there are random people buying bags of marshmallows from these people and internet blogs telling you that that’s a good idea.” 

“Alex…what the fuck?" 

“Yeah, I dragged myself in deep on that one,” he grimaced, scratching the back of his head nervously. “In the end, I decided I didn’t want weird garage marshmallows. Or even just bags from cereal companies or confectioners because where would I even keep an eight pound transparent plastic bag of marshmallows until Christmas? So books it was.” 

"Books it was,” Aaron repeated quietly. “Honestly, I much prefer your idea over the marshmallows.” 

Alex shot him a grin that was all teeth. “I do have some good ones.” 

“Mm, occasionally." 

“Ha! You agreed! You can’t take that back!” 

“Well, it is Christmas after all. Spirit of giving and all that.” 

“No, no, no, no,” Alex held his finger up, grinning like a madman. “You said I had good ideas. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas. That compliment is mine now and forever and you can’t ever take it back.” 

Aaron rolled his eyes playfully and reached over the bottom of the bed to lift a red foil gift bag up from the floor. “Okay, your turn now, genius. Merry Christmas.” 

Alex took the bag with a wry smile and opened it. He reached in and lifted out a navy parka jacket with a soft cream lining and held it at arm’s length, rubbing his thumbs over the material as he examined it. He let his eyes wander over the metal buttons studded down one side, down to the deep pockets that were exactly what he needed to carry all of his shit in. They drifted back up the lining inside the hood and he shifted his thumbs higher to feel it. It was softer than he had imagined and it was thick. It wasn’t going to wear down easily. The coat itself was heavy too, a good solid weight in his hands - god, it would be so warm. Alex was never going to take it off. 

“Aaron, that’s too much,” he said gently, still staring at the jacket. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. 

“You don’t know that,” he answered nonchalantly. 

“It’s Superdry. I definitely know that. I told you not to spend that much,” Alex argued, setting the coat down in his lap reluctantly. He couldn’t very well make his point whilst fondling the coat. Or, unfortunately, whilst being wrapped up in it. 

“You need a coat, Alexander and it’s a good one. It’ll keep you warm.” 

“Yeah, it had better for the kind of money they charge,” he huffed, brushing his thumb over the fabric again. It was a nice coat. It was a _good_ coat and Aaron was right; Alex did desperately need a new one. His old one was too thin and worn and he might as well use a napkin to try and keep himself warm for all the good it did against the cold but this was expensive and he knew it was. Aaron couldn’t buy anything else and Alex knew most of the money was for brand instead of the quality of the coat itself. It was good but he would bet his life he could have found an off-brand one that would do the same job for much less than whatever Aaron paid for this one. “I mean, thank you, it’s great and I love it but it’s too much.” 

“Well then, you’re really going to hate me because there’s still something in that bag,” he smiled. 

“Aaron!” 

“This one isn’t as big, I promise.”

Alex sighed heavily and reached into the bag again. His fingers brushed against something soft and woollen. He pinched the fabric tenderly between fingers and thumb and lifted it out of the bag to find himself face to face with a knitted forest green scarf. The scarf was ribbed and had white and black stripes near both ends and was long enough that Alex could wrap it a few times around his neck to keep himself cosy. He placed it over the back of his neck and wove it around, bunching the material so he looked like he was trying to protect himself from rampant vampires by completely covering his neck with some knitting. 

“I live in this scarf now,” Alex declared, playing idly with the ends of it. 

Aaron chuckled and admired how good his boyfriend looked in nothing more than mismatched pyjamas and a scarf, even with a serious case of bed head. It was hard not to be drawn in by that messy charm that Alex had, especially when he wasn’t aware that he was doing it. 

“It suits you. I’m glad you like it.” 

“I do. Thank you,” Alex pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “But seriously, it was too much.” 

“Alexander, stop. You needed a new coat and you’re always cold. Just enjoy them,” he smiled, taking the ends of the scarf from Alex’s hands and using them to coax him closer so he could kiss him properly. 

Alex shifted himself closer, kissing back eagerly. He tilted his head and traced his tongue over the outline of Aaron’s bottom lip. Aaron’s lips parted around a low hum and Alex took it as permission to deepen the kiss. His hand wandered to cup the side of Aaron’s face and he kissed him slowly and deliberately, taking his time with it. Aaron held him there with the ends of the scarf and they made out unhurriedly until Alex broke away but stayed close, keeping their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely touching. 

“Coffee first,” he breathed with a wicked smile. “And then I can thank you properly.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you to each and every person who reads this. It'll be continued in the next chapter because I had more ideas but then Alex and Aaron's section went on _forever_ and they just needed to stop.
> 
>  
> 
> And for anyone who is curious, yes, Google does suggest 8 pound bags of marshmallows if you spend your time searching for Christmas presents. Even in June.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Aaron continue their little make out session. John goes home. 
> 
> Or a continuation of two ways to do Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. 
> 
> I spent ages fighting with this chapter but it’s finally here and it’s done. I’m drawing a line under it. 
> 
> Heads up if you don’t like tense situations or emotional manipulation/abuse. John’s father makes a proper appearance in this chapter and is an outright dick so there is mysogony, emotional manipulation and there are some mentions of conversion therapy and some homophobic language in this chapter.

It was the longest cup of coffee of Aaron’s life. He swore Alex was dragging it out on purpose, watching him out of the corner of his eye while he blew into his coffee and took the tiniest sips, pretending to be enthralled in admiring his new coat which was laid out over the bed in front of him. Or maybe he really was admiring it while he was drinking his never-ending drink. 

Either way, the moment stretched itself lazily between them but Aaron found that the longer it took, the less he minded waiting. Alex had scooped his hair up into a high messy bun and even with a bobby pin across the back of his head to catch loose bits, his hair still tumbled down in riotous strands around his ears and neck and the sides of his face. The white t-shirt he had opted to wear to bed was baggy and hung loosely off his shoulder. Aaron wanted to kiss his shoulder where it met his neck but instead, he leaned an arm back on the bed, taking his weight on one hand and waited.

The atmosphere in the room was easy and comfortable. Alex tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and raised his mug to his lips, taking a drink. Aaron stayed where he was and mirrored the movement, appreciating the bitterness of his own coffee on his tongue. He shifted his weight forward, taking the weight off his arm so he could have one free hand and picked up the first book of the series, leafing through the pages distractedly and sipping as he thought. 

When he first read the books, he had been eleven years old. His sister had bought him the first book for his birthday and he remembered hiding in his bedroom, under the sheets with a torch, reading about these three orphaned children and their awful guardian. He was hooked instantly. He remembered finishing it and negotiating (not begging, it was never begging) with his sister to take him to the bookstore after school so he could get the next one. And the next one. And the next one.

He had told Alex that story once. Obviously it had struck him as something worth remembering and that made Aaron’s chest bloom with warmth. Alex could forget to eat, forget why he walked into a room, where he had left his earphones even when they were in his hand, he could forget his own birthday (and had), what he had done yesterday or an hour ago but there were certain things he never had to think about. Like Aaron’s favourite colour. Or the place they had first kissed. Or the way Aaron took his coffee, or what kind of yoghurt he preferred or the moment Aaron had first realised he wasn’t straight. Alex didn’t remember a lot of things but he remembered all of these details, ones that Aaron hadn’t even recalled telling him until Alex casually slipped it into their conversation and made Aaron’s heart swell. 

It was the same with the books. Just another off-hand story that Aaron had shared and Alex had filed away in the back of his mind somewhere as something important. Something worth holding on to.

He felt the weight of Alex's head fall against his shoulder and was pulled back out of his thoughts. Alex glanced up at him from under his eyelashes as Aaron looked down and shifted himself up higher, twisting to catch Aaron’s mouth in a kiss. Alex slid his arms up around Aaron’s neck and used his shoulders as leverage to pull him deeper into the kiss. Aaron switched his coffee mug to his other hand and reached blindly behind himself, hoping he was setting it on the chest of drawers beside his bed. Alex didn’t seem to care about where the coffee ended up but Aaron didn’t particularly want it spilled over his lap.

With both hands free, he snaked his hands back around his boyfriend and held his sides firmly. He traced his tongue over Alex’s lower lip and Alex responded by pushing himself up onto his knees so Aaron had to crane his neck to follow the kiss. His hands cupped Aaron’s face, thumbs pressed gently against his cheek bones as his tongue slid against Aaron’s, drawing out low hums from both of them. 

They kissed slowly, languidly, holding onto each other like lifelines while Alex tipped Aaron’s head back and forced him to stretch upwards to keep in contact with those soft lips. Alex’s thumbs pressed softly against his cheeks and his fingers were a delicate pressure on the back of his head, behind his ears and on his neck. Aaron’s fingers tightened around Alex’s hips, drawing him closer. It was deliberately slow, Alex teasing Aaron’s tongue with his own; a slick, wet heat that made his chest tingle and made him strain upwards to try and catch Alex’s mouth better.

Alex broke away when Aaron pushed up at him, pulling back to plant a line of small kisses along the underside of Aaron’s jaw and up towards his ear. Aaron’s hands slipped deftly under his t-shirt, skimming over his sides until his palms were pressed against the dip in his spine at the small of his back. Still cupping his face, Alex shifted his hips, throwing one knee over Aaron’s legs so he was straddling him and nudged his head sideways with his nose to kiss at his neck, sloppier than before. Aaron gasped quietly as Alex sucked at the pulse point, sending shivers of electricity down his spine. The soles of his feet tingled and made his toes curl and need spread through his stomach, unfurling in long, hot waves as Alex teased his tongue over the spot. He licked a stripe up over the artery and Aaron couldn’t help the tiny strangled noise he made in the back of his throat. His fingers tightened into the muscles in Alex’s back and he could feel Alex’s hum vibrating against his skin, triggering more shockwaves through his body. God, he wanted to stay here forever, doing nothing only this.

Alex worked his way down Aaron’s neck to his shoulder, leaving wet kisses on every inch of skin he could reach. Aaron’s hands wandered restlessly over Alexander’s back, shucking his t-shirt higher so he could glide two fingers up along either side of his spine. Alex shot up straighter, gasping and arching his back away from the touch, accidentally pressing his dick against Aaron’s stomach. Aaron chuckled as Alex twisted himself away from his fingers, shuddering. 

“Not fair, you dick,” Alex pouted, prodding Aaron in the shoulder. 

“How is it my fault?” he smiled, hiding his nose against Alex’s sternum. He lay his palm flat on Alex’s back and smoothed it down, soothing his sensitive nerve endings. “You’re the ticklish one.” 

Alex grumbled to himself and pushed Aaron onto his back, sitting himself down on the tops of his thighs. Aaron flashed him a wry smile and laced his fingers around both of Alex’s wrists, massaging tender little circles over the inside of the joint. 

“Are you going to stay up there now?”

“Maybe.” 

“I’d like you down here better.”

Alex tilted his head to the side, considering while Aaron continued to trace small, concise patterns over his wrists. 

“What’s in it for me?”

“Come down here and I’ll show you.”

Alex smirked and crawled forwards as Aaron tugged his wrists, leading him down into another deep kiss. He could taste the bitterness of the coffee, tinged with the sweet edge of sugar as Aaron’s tongue swept across his and his own tongue moved after it, chasing the taste and the heat. Aaron’s hands slid up his arms, gripping his biceps and Alex caught his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it gently. Aaron moaned and surged up into the kiss. He could feel Alex’s smile as he nipped at his lip, coaxing another soft moan out of his boyfriend. 

“You know,” Aaron started, trying to squeeze his words into the gaps between kisses, “I don’t think it’s fair that you’re still in a shirt.”

Alex laughed and pulled back, looking down at Aaron. “This is not coming off. It’s too cold.” 

“How are you still cold?” Aaron exclaimed, rubbing his hands vigorously up and down Alex’s upper arms. “You’re clothed!” 

Alex shrugged nonchalantly and Aaron sighed, pulling him down to lie across his chest. “Come on, get back under the covers then. We can lie here until you’re warmer and then I’ll go and start dinner. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Alex answered, grinning as he helped Aaron shimmy the sheets out from underneath him. He tossed the end of it over his shoulders, making sure to pull it high enough to cover up to the back of his neck and lay his head back on Aaron’s chest. He planted a quick kiss on the outline of his jaw and started tracing patterns idly on his chest. 

“Perfect,” Aaron echoed.

“And then sex?”

He chuckled and looked down at Alex, brushing his hair back from his face.

“And then sex.”

———————————————————

John trudged through the slush left behind by the melting snow to his dad’s front door with both hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans. He stopped outside the house, staring at the gloss black paint, both familiar and entirely alien all at once. It felt like a lifetime since he had been here last. Had it really only been a month since Thanksgiving? The winter air nipped at his cheeks and his nose and his breath spiralled upwards in grey wisps while John remained frozen to the spot. 

Every fibre of John’s soul urged him to turn around and walk away. No one would miss him, not really. He could say he was sick. He felt sick. It wouldn’t really even be a lie. But it wasn’t an option and John knew it. Slowly, he lifted a hand from his pocket and knocked. 

Mary opened the door to him and John felt relief and anxiety swirling together in the pit of his stomach. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and his shoulders slouched as he let go of some of the tension they’d been holding. Of course it wouldn’t be his dad. His dad never answered the door himself. 

“John,” she smiled, stepping back to let her brother inside. John followed her in, kicking the snow off his combat boots. She reached up, pulling him into a tight hug. “How are you? Here, let me take your coat and your scarf. Everyone else is in the dining room. You can go on through to them.”

John threw an arm around her loosely and stepped back again quickly, unlacing his scarf from around his neck. “I’m okay,” he said, giving her a casual smile as he handed the scarf over and shucked his coat off. “What about you? How are things?”

“Yeah, pretty good, thanks. Glad to be off for a bit.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll just go hang this up in the cloakroom,” she said, taking his coat over her arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay,” John smiled again nervously, scratching the back of his neck. The dining room was the last place he wanted to go but he had to get it over with at some point. He couldn’t stand in the hallway all day. He had hoped that he could go in with Mary so not all of the attention would be on him but hovering outside waiting for his little sister to come and hold his hand when he walked in to a family meal was nothing short of pathetic and John would have enough to feel pathetic over soon without willingly adding to his collection.

Mary shot him back a warmer smile and walked off with his stuff, the heels of her boots clicking against the tiles as she went. _There goes that idea._

John sighed softly and looked up to the ceiling, wishing this day was over already. He pushed his hands back into his pockets, clenching them into fists where nobody could see. His stomach was writhing with nerves as he forced himself to walk down the hall towards the chorus of voices, digging his nails into his palms to keep his attention focused on something other than the raging ball of anxiety clawing its way through his chest. 

_“Just a few hours,”_ he told himself, swallowing down the maelstrom that was kicking up in the pit of his belly. _“Just a few hours and then you can go. It’s just a dinner. Relax. You can do this.”_

———————————————————

John had barely sat down before plates of food were being carried out from the kitchen and set in front of them all like a royal banquet. He had only made it through Martha’s overenthusiastic introduction of her new boyfriend, Will, by the time Mary returned from hanging his things up and had taken her seat again beside her boyfriend, Benjamin, to the right of their father. His younger brothers, James and Henry Jr, sat on either side of the table, next to the girls and John had slid into a free seat at the opposite end of the table, facing his father. 

Two girls in black trousers and white shirts brought the food and wine out from the kitchen once they were all seated. They circled the table expertly, one setting a plate overflowing with food in front of everyone while the other followed swiftly behind, offering a choice of red or white to the adults. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’ll just take water,” John smiled to the girl when she reached his seat. Alcohol was the last thing he needed if he had to keep his temperament under control, though he ached to dull the nerves squeezing and twisting his stomach into knots.

“Of course sir,” she smiled back politely and carried the wine bottles back off into the kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with a glass of water for John and two glasses of sparkling grape juice for James and Jr. Once she had set the glasses down, both girls disappeared like ghosts back into the kitchen. John wondered how much his father was paying them.

“Enjoy your meal,” Henry gestured with one hand across the table before he lifted his knife and fork. Everyone else followed suit, murmurs of “thank you’s” making their way around the table.

John looked down at his dinner and wondered how he was supposed to eat all of it without dying. There was turkey topped off with strips of streaky bacon and loaded with stuffing, three different kinds of potatoes and a whole grocery shop of vegetables adorning the plate, all covered in a rich gravy. His stomach clenched at the meaty smell and John wished he had had something slightly more substantial than a cup of hot chocolate this morning before he left the house. Even if he had been hungry, he would never finish this amount of food in one sitting.

He cut a piece of turkey and bounced his leg anxiously underneath the table while he chewed on it. Hopefully if he took it slowly enough, it wouldn’t make him feel queasy. 

“So Martha, princess, how was your first semester at college?” Henry asked. “You must have settled in well.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve made so many new friends on the course. There’s a lot of work to do for it, but just having so many nice people around really made it all so much easier,” she said, placing her hand on Will’s knee below the table. John rolled his eyes. Way to be subtle, Martha. Then again, subtlety had never been her strong suit. 

“We’re all very glad that you’re making friends, princess. And you’ve gotten yourself a handsome young man too.”

“I know,” she turned to Will and gave him the most sickeningly sweet smile John had ever seen. He was certain he could feel his teeth rotting in his head just from proximity to it. “I’m a very lucky girl.”

 _“Oh Jesus Christ,”_ John thought drily. _“I thought I was going to puke before.”_

“Yeah, you’re right. You did get lucky,” Will teased her and Martha gasped, lightly slapping his thigh under the table.

“Will!”

“I’m kidding, Martha. Obviously I’m the one who got lucky.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek and James turned his head away, gagging silently. John snorted into his hand and tried to cover it inconspicuously with a few coughs. He took a sip of water, pretending he had choked on something and tried to cool the heat rising in his cheeks. He and James hardly ever saw eye to eye but he had to agree with him this time. The PDA and the serious case of heart eyes going on at the top of the table was vomit-inducing. He glanced over at Jr to keep his eyes from meeting James’ accidentally and to stop himself from giggling again. The little boy was keeping his head bowed and his eyes low and John suspected he was biting the inside of his lip to stop himself from laughing as well. John’s lips twitched again and he pressed them together hard and stared back at his dinner. Martha and Will remained, thankfully, blissfully unaware of James’ reaction.

“What about you, John?” his father asked coolly, slicing through one of his baby carrots as he arched an eyebrow at his son. John’s eyes slid up to meet his father’s and every trace of laughter evaporated like morning dew in the sunlight. In that moment, he knew exactly what it felt like to be that carrot. “Have you found a special girl yet?”

John forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as pained as it felt straining across his face. Relationships were always a rocky subject with his father. He needed to tread lightly. Henry wanted John to settle down with a nice, rich girl and get married and have babies; all the usual shit. He had no idea that John was gay and John had no desire to throw that particular spanner into the works. It was like self-amputating a perfectly healthy arm just for the hell of it. If his father ever found out, John had no doubt he would beat him but he had lived through that before. He could manage that with bandages and ice packs and a story about a drunk guy at a bar. That wasn’t what John was worried about. 

What he was worried about was what his father would do afterwards. John had heard enough horror stories about conversion therapy and “help groups” and prayer circles and all the different, stomach-twistingly sickening, medieval methods of psychological and physical torture available to his father to try and “get his son back” or “release him from his demons,” or whatever the fuck they advertised their bullshit as. His father would buy into all of it and he had the means to hide it from the world while John was passed from place to place like some dirty little secret, to any baseless creep who claimed they could make him the heterosexual his father wanted.

Mary looked down the table at him sympathetically at their dad’s question; a silent reminder that not all of them were against him. She knew that John was gay and she still loved him. And Martha too. That was enough for now. 

“I guess I just haven’t found the right one yet,” he answered tightly, forcibly unclenching his teeth. He had to stay calm. He couldn’t let the fire searing in his veins do his thinking for him. His chest squeezed painfully as he thought about the unfairness of having to hide his feelings about this too. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t stand up in this house and say “I’m gay,” and it wasn’t fair that he could never bring anyone home, for his sake and theirs, and it wasn’t fair that he had to live a lie and tread on eggshells around his father to avoid outright abuse. It made him sick to think his own father could hate him just for being him.

“He’ll find someone. When the time’s right,” Mary said, smiling encouragingly down at him. How did she do it? How did she appear so calm when John knew that she detested their father’s opinion as much as he did? 

“Ugh, you sound like a Disney princess,” James scoffed, rolling his eyes so hard they should have fallen out of his skull. 

“I’m not talking about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever afters’, James,” she answered, the same little smile never leaving her face. “I mean there are a lot of people out there and if John wants to meet someone nice, there’s no shortage of them. Same goes for you.”

Seriously, this had to be witchcraft. How was she still smiling? John would have told him to shut up; he could feel it on the tip of his tongue, sharp and acidic but Mary just glid over it like it was nothing. There was no hint of annoyance in her face or her voice. She had inherited the same easy temperament as their mother and John had always been jealous of that. He had inherited their father’s; wild flares of uncontrollable temper, anger and bitterness too, easily dredged up from the black pit of his stomach. Volatile. Nothing like the serenity that Mary could muster.

“Wait, if true love and happily ever afters aren’t real, what about star-crossed lovers? Are you telling me Romeo and Juliet weren’t really in love?” Ben asked, nudging Mary playfully.

“Oh sweetie, you’re so gullible,” she said amusedly, reaching for her wine. Maybe her coping was more like John’s than he thought. 

“Well, I think destiny is real,” Martha cut in, placing a hand delicately over her heart as she spoke. “And I think it’s sweet that Romeo and Juliet were meant to be together.”

“Sweet is not the word I’d use to describe the double suicide of two teenagers,” Mary answered flatly. “But sure, if you want to believe that was written in the stars and nothing they or their parents could do would change that, be my guest, Martha.” 

“You’re so cynical, Mary.”

“But she’s my star-crossed cynic,” Ben pretended to swoon against her shoulder and Mary chuckled, nudging him off with her elbow.

“So Junior, how’s school going?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject before Ben could say anything else about it. His head snapped up in surprise and John felt a surge of sympathy as the little boy blinked owlishly at her. 

“Yeah, it’s – good,” he said quickly, his cheeks already starting to tinge pink with embarrassment. 

“That’s good. Do you have any projects going on or learn anything interesting?” she asked, trying to coax some conversation out of him. It was like trying to draw blood from a stone with Junior. 

“Um, yeah, actually, I – um – I wanted to get ahead on the science fair stuff so I already kinda started a project.”

“Ooo, what’s your project?”

“Um,” Junior twisted his fingers into the cuff of his shirt and looked down. “It’s – uh – a – it’s an experiment to see whether people who play video games have better reaction times than people who don’t. I’m supposed to see if they do an-and if they do, I need to decide whether it’s because they play video games or if they like video games _because_ they have better reaction times.”

“Will, you’ll learn over time that Junior here is a certified genius,” Ben said, pointing at the boy before he shot a friendly smile at him. Junior ducked his head, smiling bashfully and twisted his fingers harder into his shirt cuffs, pulling them out of shape. The bend of his fingers made John’s ache in sympathy. He wanted to reach over the table and unlace his fingers and tell him to relax before he dislocated something.

“Junior, don’t ruin your shirt,” Henry ordered sharply and the little boy jumped, releasing the cuffs from his fingers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting on his hands so that he couldn’t fidget anymore. It made anger swell in John’s stomach. They all had to hide so much around their father and pretend to be perfect silhouettes of children, rather than real, living people but it seemed twice as unfair with Junior. He was still a child and his nervous tics weren’t something he could control. They weren’t something he should have to control. God knows he could use all the comfort he could get while he still had to live with their father.

“So do you need some willing test subjects?” Mary asked, skating over her father’s sharpness.

“Yeah, actually,” he said quietly, looking up at her from under his eyelashes. “Some of my friends in school did the reaction tests so I have a couple for each table but the more I have in both, the better my results are.” 

“You can put me down for it then. I’ll do it after dinner.”

“I’m always in for science. Count me in,” Ben smiled. 

“Will and I’ll do it too, right?” Martha looked to him. “Will plays lots of video games so he can definitely help.”

“Yeah, that’s – thanks, that’s –“

“If you need as many people as you can, I’ll do it too. Put me down on the non-video game side,” John said, raising his hand to the side of his face.

“Thanks,” Junior said softly, a tiny smile barely quirking the corners of his mouth.

“You can show us all what we need to need to do after dinner, okay?” Mary said and Junior nodded, dropping his head again. 

“So, speaking of school, Will, are you and Martha on the same course?” Ben asked, moving the attention away from Junior. The boy sagged back in his seat when everyone’s heads turned the other way and nibbled at a piece of turkey, keeping his eyes trained on it.

“No, we met through a friend. I’m on one of the economics courses.”

“Will’s going to go into his family business when he graduates,” Martha announced proudly. “His father thinks he could handle it now but Will really wants to get to grips with it all first, don’t you, love?”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed with a nonchalant shrug and a smile that wouldn’t have been out of place in a toothpaste commercial. “I want to do the best I can and do right by everyone there, especially by my dad.”

“Just as you should,” Henry nodded once, obviously impressed by Will’s answer. John groaned internally. He could see the next wave of the storm approaching in the distance; sinister steel-grey clouds rumbling dangerously as they rolled unrelentingly closer. He was helpless to do anything but stand his ground and pray to anyone who listened that it would pass harmlessly overhead. 

“It’s a nice path when that’s what you’re interested in,” Mary said diplomatically, trying to ease some of the visceral tension that was creeping into the conversation. Junior slid down in his seat and John could see the way the kid’s hands were clenched around his cutlery, turning his knuckles white. Martha sipped at her wine, looking pointedly at Mary over the rim and Henry’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at her out of the corner of them. They could all sense the storm too.

“Yeah, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” Will said, slower this time as he tried to feel out what had caused the obvious change in the atmosphere. Ben smiled at him supportively. 

“It’s great when someone follows their heart into a profession, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah, that’s – how we get the best out of people,” he tried but it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

“But would you also agree that you have a duty to stay by your family and help to support them?” Henry asked, circling his wrist so he was pointing at Will with his knife. Will stared at him like a rabbit caught in headlights, still clueless as to what he was supposed to say. He could tell there was more to this than he knew and he was treading on eggshells attempting to keep the peace without knowing what the war was about.

“Well, yes, I suppose. A family should – all try to support each other,” he answered, side-eyeing Martha to get some sort of idea as to whether he was anywhere near safe ground at all. She set down her glass and nodded, smiling tersely at him. Will mirrored her uneasy smile. He got the feeling that had been the wrong thing to say but he couldn’t grasp why. It didn’t seem like a particularly radical statement.

“You see, Will, unlike you, John has decided to put his own wants over the needs of his family,” Henry answered him. Will’s stomach sank as he realised why everyone else looked so tense and he flashed John a quick, apologetic glance across the table. John shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly back at him. It wasn’t Will’s fault his dad was a dick.

“He’s going to be a nurse, Dad,” Martha said gently. “He’s going to help lots of people.”

“But not his own family. He doesn’t care about what happens to us or the business, princess.”

“That’s not true!” John snapped, gripping his thigh so tightly under the table that he could feel the bruises blooming under his fingertips. Well, it was partly true. He didn’t really care about what happened to his father’s business and he didn’t really care what happened to his father anymore but he cared about his siblings. He hated that his father would suggest that he didn’t; whether he was serious or just trying to get a rise out of John didn’t matter. 

“Is that why you’re running off to play doctors then?” Henry asked icily.

 _“Nurse,”_ John ground out, glaring a hole through the centre of the table. He couldn’t meet the smug, self-satisfied look on his father’s face or he might launch himself across the table and strangle him in front of everyone. “Martha just said it, Dad.”

“Those are the same thing,” he scoffed, waving a hand dismissively at John. “And what does it matter what one it’s going to be when you’re leaving your family to fend for themselves?”

John felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It clenched his throat shut and made his breathing short and laboured as it struggled around the lump of words clogging up his airways like thick, black tar. He tried to swallow the imaginary blockage but he still felt like there was a fist squeezing around his neck. Everything he wanted to say, wanted to scream at his father jammed his veins and piled up in his mouth, making his tongue heavy. They all clambered over each other desperately like rats trying to escape a fire and he couldn’t get any of them out.

“Dad, we’re fine,” Mary said flatly. “We’re not going to starve just because John isn’t going to take over from you someday.”

Henry met her eyes furiously and Mary stared right back at him with a mulish set to her jaw and wide, unflinching eyes. Ben’s gaze was also fixed on Henry and his hand found his way to Mary’s thigh under the table. She didn’t move as he laid the palm of his hand flat against her jeans.

“I don’t get why he’s going to be a nurse anyway. That’s a girl’s job,” James cut in, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest.

“Not now, James,” Mary told him bluntly, never once taking her eyes off her father.

“But it is! Men are doctors, not nurses!”

“James,” Mary’s tone was sharper as she turned her attention to her little brother. “There’s no such thing as male jobs and female jobs. People should be able to do whatever they want to.”

“You have to admit, Mary, that in the past, men were the doctors and only women were nurses,” Henry said coolly. Mary’s jaw twitched angrily and John watched her take a short, sharp breath before she opened her mouth again. 

“In the past. Not anymore.”

“It’s still primarily a female role.”

“Which means John has every chance of being fast tracked through it.”

“Mary,” Henry said, dangerously low. Ben’s hand tightened around Mary’s thigh and she pressed her lips into a thin line. She reached up and fixed her hair, pushing it back from her eye and breathed out slowly.

“Sorry.” It wasn’t sincere but her acquiescence was enough to soothe their father’s injured ego. The hard lines in Henry’s face smoothed out and he sat back easily in his chair, fixing his dinner jacket. 

Mary licked her lips and looked down with a quick, silent sigh that drained her soul out of her body. Her shoulders slouched and she shot a reassuring smile at Ben as he frowned questioningly at her. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” John announced, scraping his chair back from the table. He was standing before he even thought about it, already turned and running away from the awkward tension crawling over the dinner table. It was like someone had reached into his soul and taken out everything he was feeling, multiplied it and infected the atmosphere with it. His chest was buzzing with it; it resonated down through his bones and threatened to shake him apart if he stayed there another second so John did what he always did when things got tough. He ran.

He made it to the bathroom and locked the door behind him, leaning back against it for support. His legs were like undercooked spaghetti. His knees gave out under the strain of his weight and he slid down to the floor with his ears ringing and his heart trying to force its way out of his chest. He was furious but his body was reacting like he was terrified. The wires had crossed inside his skull, in the tangled mess of his brain the signals had gotten at odds with each other and now John was curled up on the floor when all he really wanted to do was punch something. 

That thought carried through his body, searing his insides. His hands tightened into fists and at least now the anger was there, even if the squeeze of anxiety still gripped his heart and his lungs and left him breathless. John shoved himself to his feet roughly, letting the anger hold him up. He whirled around and his fist connected with the tiles on the wall with a satisfying crunch. John paused, stretching his fingers out as pain blossomed across his knuckles and sank into his fingers and the back of his hand and smiled wildly. He punched the wall again and again and again until both hands hurt more than his chest, more than his hatred for his father and himself, more than this house and this dinner and this shitty-ass world where happiness was nothing more than a fairytale that they told to children so they didn’t lose their minds before their tenth birthday. 

He didn’t know how long he had been in there when Mary knocked and called out to him gently. It must have been a while if she had come to find him, or maybe she just needed an excuse to leave that table too. Or maybe she really needed to pee and John was hogging the bathroom as his safe space. He was sitting on the floor again, knees tucked up under his chin. He reached up and unlocked the door for her but didn’t move from his spot. 

Mary opened the door and slipped through, closing it behind her again. She kneeled down in front of him and held her hands out to him, palms upturned.

“Lemme see the damage.”

“I’m fine,” he said defensively, tucking his hands under his arms. 

“I know,” she agreed with a tired smile. “But I still want to see. Please?”

John sighed and looked away but held his hands out to her. Mary took his fingers delicately in hers and pulled them closer. John didn’t watch as she assessed the state of his hands. Shame burned hotter than fire in his gut; it tinged his cheeks and his ears and his heart was trying to thump its way out of his chest to escape the lick of flames. He couldn’t look at her. He was supposed to be taking care of Mary, not the other way around.

Mary dropped one of his hands and reached up to brush his hair back from his face, even though it was already scraped back into a ponytail. She ran her fingers through it and down over his cheek until she was cupping his face. She gave his other hand the tiniest squeeze, not enough to hurt his already bruising and swelling knuckles but just enough to remind him that she was with him.

“C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up and then you can come do Junior’s experiment with us,” she said softly. John glanced back at her quickly and dropped his eyes again. He _couldn’t_ look at her. “You’re still doing it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s do that then.”

“Mary, I don’t –“ he started as she got up to get the bandages. 

“You can’t go back out like that,” she told him, nodding at the state of his hands. John curled them into his stomach, hiding them again and the shame exploded, scorching whatever remained of his self-esteem into cindering ashes. 

Mary kneeled down beside him again and pressed a quick kiss to his temple as she unfurled the white cotton bandage. “We’ll get through this, John. We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, these are the ages I’ve given to John’s siblings.
> 
> Martha (18)  
> Mary (20)  
> James (16)  
> Henry Jr (12) 
> 
> John is 23. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this and giving it a read. If you liked it, maybe leave a comment? Hopefully I’ll not have to wrestle so much with the next one.
> 
> Oh, also, sorry that there’s no smut. I was going to write it and then I really didn’t want to so it’s not there.


End file.
